


Snow Way Out

by Lieutenant_Hawkaye



Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Cal's manhood gets threatened, Episode: s01e12 Blinded, Episode: s02e11 Beat the Devil, F/M, It's the arsehole brigade, Mystery, No hot chocolate was harmed in the making of this story, implied Callian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8240635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieutenant_Hawkaye/pseuds/Lieutenant_Hawkaye
Summary: Getting snowed in usually consists of sleepover type scenarios: warm drinks, stories and connecting. However, not in The Lightman Group, it's more along the lines of death and danger - just how Cal likes it. Except it's his life on the line for a change and he has to play a careful game with a master criminal.





	1. Chapter One

_“There have been reports of heavy snow fall around the D.C. area, and a possibility of a snow storm later this evening.”_ The news may have been on in the Lightman Group offices but it fell upon mostly deaf ears.   
The weather was frightful, snow swirling out of control from the sky. It was piling up on the ground and the head of the poor woman reporting on the obvious events for the rest of the evening.   
Coming to the end of her report she stared blankly through the television screen as if waiting for a response before signing off back to the other reporters in the warm station. If anyone from the Group had been watching they would've seen her disgust in her stare aimed at those other reporters, but they weren't so they didn't, a missed opportunity.  
However, there was one person watching.   
Dr Cal Lightman thought it was a good example of the expression, even if he did say so himself, not quite as good as his ex wife’s but very nearly. Speaking of which, he picked up the phone on his desk and called his daughter.  
“Hey Em, could you stay at a friend’s tonight? I may be late home if it snows too badly.”  
“Yes, it can be Willy’s.”  
“Sorry, love. Liam's. Make sure he picks you up.”  
“Alright. Good night, darlin’. I love you.”  
Cal replaced the phone and went to find his partner in crime. Albeit the only person who stopped him from going to jail or being killed most of the time.

“Oi, Loker, seen Foster anywhere?” The lab door was flung open so hard that it hit the wall and caused the young man inside to turn abruptly and glare at the newcomer. Cal walked in unperturbed by the weighted gaze, he was more interested by the paused video on the projector.  
“I take your silence as a no,” He said distractedly, “Who's this happy chap?” Eli Loker zoomed in on the man’s face where there was an obvious look of guilt.  
“Dorian Robinson. He is a Democratic politician and this was filmed this morning in D.C. during his speech on health insurance. When he mentioned the local hospital this was the expression I found.” Loker replayed the footage to show Cal, who watched with intent and nodded in agreement.  
On the video as the politician spoke he looked directly into the crowd before him, speaking carefully and clearly. However, when he started talking about the local hospital his gaze shifted and his head lowered.  
“Apparently someone from the FBI caught the guilt while watching this as it aired.” Cal scoffed, about bloody time they started training them properly. “You may know him. I think he said his name was Reynolds, Ben Reynolds?” His eyebrows raised, slightly impressed. He pretended to ignore Loker’s smug smirk.  
“I also find hospitals uncomfortable at the best of times, but guilt? Take Torres to this geezer’s house and find out what you can. The usual. I'm sure I don't need to baby you.”  
“She's at home.”  
“Call her and tell her to get her arse here then.”  
“She's not going to be happy.”   
“Good man, I'll be in my office.”  
Cal turned on his heel and strode out the lab and slammed the door with as much force as he opened it with. He walked back to his office and rang Gillian Foster’s mobile – he knew he was more likely to get an answer out of her on her personal phone. As the phone rang out, he watched the snow fall lazily past his window only to be jarred out of his trance by Gillian's voicemail. He sighed and hung up, then tried again.  
This time on the third ring she picked up.  
“Cal, I was busy, what is it?”  
“Busy, without me?”  
“Yes, in the ladies’ room. What do you want, Cal?”  
“My point still stands. I just wanted to tell you to be safe on your way home, love.”  
“Thank you. See you tomorrow.”  
“Bye, Gillian.”   
Just as he was about to put his mobile down it vibrated.  
 _One Message: Eli Loker_  
‘Come downstairs.’  
Cal rolled his eyes, he wondered what came over him to employ Loker, then he remembered was good at his job and anything he put him through. He messaged him back to say he was coming down and grabbed his coat.

“Did you forget your key again?” Cal shouted as he stomped down the last set of stairs. He brought his keys out of his pocket ready to launch it at Loker for being an idiot, for a change. He was about to throw them but he noticed that Gillian was there and the door was wide open, he lowered his arm.  
“Aye-aye, what's the problem?” He slipped his other arm around Gillian’s waist and completely ignored Loker who was trying to explain that they were snowed in. Instead he followed the direction Gillian's finger was pointing, and made the same observation that the younger man had tried to seconds before. The whole door frame was filled with a snow drift, there was no way to get out.  
“That's unfortunate, you'll have to stay here tonight, Gill.” He squeezed her waist playfully, she smiled.  
“I'll call someone to come move the snow, and-“ She started to say.  
Cal let go of her and opened the store cupboard that was under the stairs. He retrieved a bucket and shovel them shut the door.  
“In the meantime, you can start digging or clearing your desk,” He threw the items at Loker in quick succession, which he caught quite impressively and put on the floor.  
“I don't even have a desk anymore.”  
“Well then, it's a no-brainer.”  
Loker rolled his eyes at the back of Cal’s head, he had half a mind to throw the bucket at it, as he and Gillian headed back upstairs _. I'm not likely to miss._ He thought, then started to dig as if it was his boss’ grave.

Ria Torres was cold. Cold and pissed off, she hated winter and its snowy wetness - and her boss. Why he had to get Loker to call her to the office on the coldest day of the year was unknown to her but she was sure to make it known she wasn't happy. To make matters worse, her car was buried in snow and wouldn't start so she had to walk to the office, which was halfway across the city.   
The case wasn't exactly interesting either, some politician is hot under the collar, what's new? They wouldn't be in politics if they didn't have something to hide or say, or on the rare occasion, both.  
She trudged the last few blocks, and as she reached the place where the doors should've been she stopped dead. Where was Loker? And more to the point, where were the doors? Then it hit her, they had been snowed in, and the text she just received confirmed it.  
 _One message: Eli <3  
‘Snowed in the office. Attached is the guy’s address. I'm going to kill Lightman xx’_  
Ria smiled, so was she.   
‘ _Okay. Ring me when you get out xx’_  
She opened the attachment, and to her relief the house was only a few blocks away. She shoved her hands in her pockets and began walking again.

Gillian wrapped herself up tighter in the blanket she had found in Cal's office along with a few others that were now spread on the floor of the glass cube. She wasn't cold per se, but the sensation of being surrounded by blankets made her feel like a child again; she was safe and warm. She loved it.  
“Open the door would you, love?” She was brought back to reality, not unpleasantly mind you, by Cal. She tied the blanket around her shoulders and unlocked the cube for him to come in. No wonder he couldn't open the door, his hands were full with mugs and cookies, she took a mug and they both settled down on the blanketed floor.  
“Hot chocolate, since when have we had this?” Gillian looked into sweet brown concoction, now she really felt like a kid.  
“It's Em’s, I'm sure she won't mind, so are the marshmallows. The digestives are mine though, I don't make a habit of stealing from my daughter.” He smiled. He picked up a blanket, he wrapped it around himself, in a similar fashion to how he had done when his father used to come home from drinking, like a shield from him and his anger.  
“I'll be sure to thank her for leaving it where you could find it.” Cal raised his mug to that statement, she did the same. They toasted it and the small clink echoed slightly.  
They both sat there content for a few minutes sipping their beverages and reliving childhood memories, good and bad. Neither wanted to break the comfortable silence but they knew it couldn't last.  
“Shrink Woman. It isn't a very good superhero name, but it's the best I could come up with on the spot. You know, because you have acquired a cape, which you do suit by the way.” Gillian rolled her eyes and laughed. This man, always the charmer when he wanted to be.  
“Cal, it's a terrible name, but thank you for trying.” He eyed her carefully and grinned broadly. “Anyway, this superhero called a snow plough to come out and he said he should be here within the hour.”   
“What are we supposed to do until then? Loker’s probably still downstairs, everyone else left long before the snow was a problem. It's just you, me and a soundproof cube.” He winked mischievously.  
“Cal, really? You are disgusting.” She rolled her eyes at him, he will never learn and she knew it – so did he, that was truly the worst part.  
“If you have any better ideas I'm all ears.”  
“Shut up and drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.” He pouted, then stuck his tongue out at her.  
“Two deflections in a row. That's quite impressive and not a no.” He smirked and started drinking tentatively so Gillian wouldn't slap him.  
“It may be soundproof but there are still security cameras, and it is made of – ow!” She had settled for throwing the digestives at him instead, far more satisfying and funny.  
“Drop it. I swear I'll knock that mug into a place you'd rather it not be.” Cal nodded sheepishly, why must she be better at this than him? He still put the mug down, just to be on the safe side.  
Luckily for him, Gillian's phone began ringing.   
“That was fast.” She muttered quietly, she wasn't complaining but she also didn't want to move.  
“Hello, Mr Jones, are you outside?”  
“No, who is this? This is the police.” Cal and Gillian locked eyes, they were thinking the same thing. What is going on?  
“I am Dr Gillian Foster of the Lightman Group, what's happened?” Cal edged over to her so he could hear properly, leaving his mug and blanket abandoned on the floor.  
“Dr Foster, I'd like to report a murder of your snow plough. Mr Jones, did you say?” She nodded, then realised that was redundant, luckily for her the man on the other end took it as a yes.  
“A murder, how?”  
“He has one GSW to his right temple, I'm sorry to say.” She was horrified, why would someone do this to an innocent man? Cal tapped her shoulder and mouthed ‘Who even kills snow ploughs, snowmen?’, which earned him a withering look and a gestural threat of hot chocolate going somewhere unpleasant. He put his hands up and surrendered, he knew it would just be easier.  
“One last thing, do you know a Dr Cal Lightman, is he your boss?” Gillian flashed a look of concern to Cal, neither of them had any idea what was going on.  
“He's my equity partner, why?”  
“There was a letter left with the body, I only assume it was left because it looks planted-“ Cal ripped the phone from Gillian's hand, she protested only with a small ‘hey!’.  
“Doctor Lightman. You have a letter for me?”  
“Yes, do-“  
“Send me a photo of it to my email and keep it as evidence. Thank you.” Cal hung up and gave Gillian her phone back, then resumed his place inside his blanket and thoughtfully cradled his hot chocolate.   
“Don't you want the letter, Cal?” Gillian asked, he shook his head.  
“If what that cop said is true. If that letter was planted I don't want him to bring it here just in case it is bugged. This guy might be out for me, I don't want to risk anyone else's life if I don't have to, love.” He gulped some hot chocolate to close his point, and immediately regretted it. If he had to define a wanker he'd describe a man who downed a hot beverage to reinforce a point then burn his entire mouth on said beverage because it was just a little too hot. Or the man who just whispered ‘Wanker.’ To himself while Gillian smiled to herself about his misfortune and idiocy.  
He looked away from her sheepishly and checked his emails, surely enough there was an email with a photo attachment titled ‘ _Evidence: letter addressed to Dr Cal Lightman’._ Intrigued, he opened it. The letter was written on blank white paper in blood red cursive.  
  
‘ _Cal, long time no see, old friend._  
I hope you are well, or at least doing better than this poor soul. I'm doing fine thank you for asking, prison is serving me well and I it.  
I got one of my friends to get this out for me and another to devise the means of it getting to you. I like that, giving my protégés freedom of their own work, maybe you should take a leaf out of my book, Doctor.   
Not to worry you, but I am bored and since you messed up my last little bit of fun I thought I'd play a new game. It's called ‘Put Out the Lightman.’ Sounds fun, doesn't it? You can play too, figure out how I got this out of prison, who helped me and who else is playing – and you live. Simple.  
Looking forward to seeing you.  
Light Bringer’

 _Light Bringer._  
To say the least, Cal wasn't quite expecting that. He passed the phone to Gillian for her to read it.  
“Jenkins?”  
“Jenkins.”


	2. Chapter Two

Ria Torres knocked on the door of the grand town house where the politician she had come to question lived. She rubbed her hands together, she may have been out in the cold for a good couple of hours but she still wasn't used to it, and she knew she never would be.  
“Hello?” A middle-aged woman opened the large oak door, she was dressed in, what can only be described as, a black and white maids’ uniform.  
“Hi, I'm Ria Torres from The Lightman Group, is Mr Robinson home?” The woman called back into the house for the politician, which she took as a yes to her question. She didn't hear a reply but the maid stepped back to let her in as if she had.  
“Ms Torres, would you like to follow me?” She was beckoned into the house, which was a lot more modern than she had expected. They walked through a long corridor that lead straight to the back of the house where there was a large conservatory that over looked a pool and a well kept garden. All of which was covered in snow, giving the impression of a misplaced villa in the North Pole.  
“Mr Robinson, someone from the Lightman Group is here to see you. Ria Torres.” The maid introduced her, nodded at the room’s occupant and left.  
The man that Loker had sent her a picture of was sat in a clinical white lounger reading a novel on a tablet. He took off his glasses and folded them neatly. With a bit of effort he stood to shake her hand, he smiled – a fake smile, of course – and gestured for her to join him back on the lounger.   
“What can I do for you, Ms Torres?” His pale eyes scanning her, trying to figure out who she was and why she was there before she could answer the question. Or that's what she hoped he was doing.  
“I'd like to say you have a lovely home.” Again, a smile with no eye movement. Either he is being polite or he is hiding something, she just had to figure out which it was. “I've been sent here to ask you about your speech this morning, you know the one about health insurance?” Nothing so far. “More specifically your reaction to talking about the local hospital?” There it was again, the flicker of guilt and head lowering.  
“I don't see why that is anyone's business.” The politician looked up again and his expression had hardened into a subtle mix of anger and disgust.  
“The FBI wants to know so it's their business. Why did you show guilt at the mention of the hospital, Mr Robinson?” She leaned into him. She reminded herself of Cal for a second, took a mental note never to make that comparison again and realised the anger this guy was showing was increasing.  
“I don't care what the FBI want. This is a breach of privacy and I would like you to leave immediately.” His eyebrows rose slightly, briefly. “Maya, would you mind showing Ms Torres out? “ He shouted into the house and the maid returned a few seconds later.   
“It would be a lot more comfortable talking to me than my colleagues or the FBI, but have it your way.” Ria paused to see if he would reply. He didn't, he was attempting to stare her down but she turned her back on him and stalked out of the glass igloo.   
Maya opened the front door almost apologetically, and whispered, “His wife.” as Ria stepped out, she shut it quickly before she could ask any more details.  
Smiling with relief, she silently thanked the woman. Suddenly, her smile turned into a grimace – it was still cold as balls. She retrieved her phone from her pocket and called Loker.  
“Hey, the guy refused to speak to me.”  
“Really? And you just let him?”  
“I couldn't exactly over stay my welcome the same way Lightman does. But I do think he definitely has something to hide, I'm going to try the hospital.”  
“Good idea, I'll meet you there soon, I've nearly dug my way out of this hell hole.”  
“At least it's warm in hell.”  
“True, see you, Ria.” He hung up on her before she could say good bye. She shrugged to herself, plunged her hands deep in her pockets and began in the direction of the hospital. She really wasn't cut out for all this walking and snow, and neither were her shoes to be completely honest.

“You can't really think he's managed to do this again, can you, Dr Lightman?” A disgruntled, middle-aged man, better known as the Warden from the prison Andrew Jenkins was being held in for the rest of his life, sat on the other end of a video call with Cal and Gillian. He didn't, or didn't want to, believe that this infamous pathological liar and serial rapist could be on the move again.   
“I was in prison for all of five minutes and I got bored to the point of insanity. It is completely plausible that he is also extremely bored, ten years is a long time.” He knew that prison wasn't stimulating at all for the likes of him and Jenkins, they aren't alike at all in many ways, they are just incredibly smart and enjoy dishing out condescension not receiving it.   
“It's prison, not a boarding school, Doctor.” Even as he said it, the Warden showed signs that he didn't completely agree with what he just said, but Cal said nothing about it, why embarrass him more than necessary?  
“We are aware of that, thank you. But if you would just let us interview him we could confirm his involvement.” Always the pacifist, or at least a good percentage of the time, Gillian knew how to negotiate like one of the best. It's almost like she had worked in the Pentagon for a number of years.  
“Even if I agree to this, how will you conduct the interview, from your office? You are snowed in.” It's moments like these Cal regrets telling people anything because all they ever do is use that information against him if they can.  
“Is your office secure?”  
“Just answer the question. Can it be locked and guarded?”  
“Well, yes, but-“ The confusion of the man was quite obvious, painful almost, Gillian felt she had to step in.  
“What Cal – Dr Lightman – is trying to say is that we could do it via video call, from your office.”   
“I can speak for myself you know, Foster. Either way, what she said.” Cal pretended that it annoyed him that she interrupts him but it doesn’t. He loves seeing her be so assertive and professional, nearly as much as he enjoys being a cryptic arse.  
“On your head be it, Lightman.”  
“Fine by me. As soon as possible as well would be great. This evening preferably.”  
“I’ll see what I can do, until then.”  
“Thank you, Warden. Bye.” Cal hit the End Call button and turned around in his chair to face Gillian.  
“Why are you grinning? That is really unnerving and a strange reaction to being told you can talk to a criminal again, Cal.” It was true, he was grinning which was a bit strange under the circumstances but not entirely unbelievable for him.   
“Gill, I am going to Skype a notorious criminal who may or may not be out to kill me.” His grin just broadened, within seconds it could quite easily rival that of the Cheshire Cat himself. No wonder people questioned his mental state and if he would become a criminal himself, he had enough knowledge to be a scarily good one if he tried.  
“Just try not to be too happy about it, will you?” At this his smile subdued slightly, he knew she was right, but this night may turn out to be quite interesting – not that it wouldn’t have been without his uncertain death weighing on him.

 


End file.
